


Patron of the Arts: A TIE Fighter Mini-Fic

by ImperialGirl



Series: Star Wars: TIE Fighter [8]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Gen, International Fanworks Day, International Fanworks Day 2017, Thrawn is an art fanboy, Thrawn is an art geek, silly stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9746222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialGirl/pseuds/ImperialGirl
Summary: A brief ficlet for the International Fanworks Day.  This more or less fits somewhere in the gap between TIE Fighter: Command Decisions and TIE Fighter: Turning Point.  And it’s entirely non-serious, though it’s not out of keeping with the characters.  Really, do you suppose Thrawn wouldn’t sometimes base his choice of worlds to liberate in the Unknown Regions based on their artwork?  Or pass up a chance, no matter what else is on his plate, to meet an artist in person?





	

“You have no idea the kind of trouble I’ve gone to find you. I very much appreciate your not being dead.”

Huus LangVan tried to keep his crest from bristling and his ears from flattening with nerves, not that the Chiss female speaking to him was likely conversant in Korgwn body language. Still, it didn’t pay to take chances, not when one was being escorted by several white-armors aboard a ship that was easily the size of any three villages on his planet. He had never heard of the Empire of the Hand until their ships had arrived to drive the Warlord Nuso Esva’s soldiers from their world. He had, however, seen the white-armors in battle, and they were ferocious fighters. The Chiss female had held her own as well, using what to all appearances was a sword made of light. He’d never heard of the red-eyes having a weapon like that, but their star empire was enormous and they undoubtedly had many esoteric weapons the Korgwn did not know.

He also did not know why the sword-wielding female had been so determined to locate and as he had put it “secure” a humble glass-spinner of some talent.

“Ah, Commander Thelea!” The speaker was yet another alien, one with smooth, pale skin in peachy -tan tones and hair only on top of its head, partially concealed by a kind of drab cap that appeared to be the same fiber as the uniform he wore. “You found him?” His vocal tones were not difficult to read: clearly, their appearance was cause for some relief.

“This is Huus LangVan, foremost Korgwn glass-spinner,” and she–Thelea?–sounded rather weary. “And it only took scouring half the northwest hemisphere.”

“Excellent! And he speaks Sy Bysti?” The alien was studying Huus with a penetrating expression.

“I understand you,” he said in the trade language. “I do not understand why am I here. I am only an artist.”

“The finest glass-spinner of Korgwnal,” Thelea said, and while Chiss tones were almost as strange as this new alien’s, he thought she sounded weary of saying so. “Believe me, we know.”

“Good, good.” The other alien smiled, at least, Huus thought that’s what the stretched mouth meant. “You have no idea how anxious he’s been.” The red-eyed female gave him a very direct look, and the other seemed to flinch. “Well, we’d best take him in.”

“We?” The female took a step back. “I did the hard part. You do this. I can be of use planetside, or interrogating Nuso Esva’s men–“

“You’re not getting out of this if I’m not,” the alien interrupted. He said something in a language Huus wasn’t familiar with, and the white-armors moved him on. The Chiss girl looked as if she were about to protest, but she only sighed and followed along. “I’ve had to put up with this sort of thing for ten years, after all. Besides, he’ll want you there. It’ll be a learning experience.”

“Between him and my master, I’ve got enough of those already,” she protested.

“With all due respect, Commander, if I have to do this, you have to do this.” They had come to a door, and the alien tapped a pad to the side of it. “Grand Admiral?”

“Do come in, Admiral Parck, and bring our guest.” The voice was smooth and polite, with perhaps a tinge of anticipation? Huus saw the Chiss female and the alien–Admiral Parck?–exchange glances that involved a furrowing of the skin on their foreheads, but the door slid open and he had no more time to puzzle it out.

Much more puzzling was what awaited him on the other side of the door. Instead of the cell or worse he’d been half-expecting, Huus found himself in nothing so much as a softly-lit art gallery. And surrounding him were–

“My work?” He realized he’d spoken aloud, and pressed his crest and ears flat, but the figure at the center of the double ring of displays, a Chiss male in a brilliant white uniform, only smiled. As much as any of that species ever did, at least.

“Indeed, Master LangVan. Sadly, holographic reproductions.” And it was mad, but he could have sworn the Chiss sounded regretful. “I am privileged to own one small original shard-nest piece, but as it is of course quite fragile I keep it at our planetary base. The delicate precision yet almost architectural heigh achieved is breathtaking. I am deeply honored to meet its creator.”

“Ah . . . I am flattered,” and he realized he had no idea how to address this . . . admirer? It seemed absurd.

There was a sound he thought was an exhalation expressing exasperation and the Chiss female said something in a lilting language Huus didn’t recognize. The white-uniformed male looked startled, but smiled. “My daughter reminds me I’m being a poor host. I am Syndic Mitth’raw’nuruodo of the Empire of the Hand, and I am a great admirer of your work, Master LangVan.”

“Uh–I’m honored, Syndic,” and he knew in a general sense what that rank was, but how one had come to be familiar with him was anyone’s guess. “I am surprised, too. I would not expect otherworlders to be so concerned with glass-spinning. It is merely a traditional Korgwn craft.”

“On the contrary,” the Syndic said, and if it were possible, the glowing red eyes seem to light up more. “It is a deep expression of your species’ psyche. A statement of strength within fragility, something that makes a great deal of sense given the unique geologic makeup of your planet. And,” the eyes narrowed, “helpful when determining our approach with the alien overlords who had occupied your world. Your works in particular.”

“Helpful? I’m grateful if it was, of course, but I don’t see how my little creations could be so important.”

The smile seemed, at least to Huus’s unpracticed eye, sincere, dreamy even. “Art is the most important thing of all, Master LangVan.” He looked past the artist, and Huus couldn’t help following his gaze, hoping turning one’s back wasn’t as rude to the Chiss. The female and the alien called Admiral were frozen in the act of backing towards the door. The Syndic seemed rather perturbed. “Admiral Parck? Daughter? Were you going somewhere?”

The one called Admiral’s face wrinkled with what seemed to be discomfort and the female sighed. “Nowhere important, Father. Only you did tell us a great deal about glass-spinning before we reached Korgwnal.”

“Which is not at all the same thing as hearing from a master of the art,” and the Syndic sounded genuinely shocked at their reticence. “I’m sure you both could be spared from any other duties while we entertain our guest?”

The Admiral and the Chiss female exchanged a look that Huus could not entirely read, and then both seemed to slouch. “Shall I put on water for chai, Father?” the female said. Something about her tone suggested to Huus that she was not being entirely sincere.

The Syndic apparently did not notice. “That would be very suitable, daughter, for such an important guest. Now, Master LangVan: if it would not be too much trouble, I would very much appreciate if you’d tell me more about your process. For example I note a shift in your use of needle-end finishes occurs here, about three years into your public career.”

Huus thought he heard a sound like cups slamming on a hard surface, but the Syndic was waiting and clearly anxious for him to comment, so he didn’t give it any further thought. “I wouldn’t call it a conscious change,” he said, though with so many of his works arrayed before him, there was a pattern he’d never noticed before. “Really, Syndic, you give me far too much credit. We should be thanking you for removing the outsiders from our world.”

“Nonsense. A talent like yours is far rarer than you realize, certainly worth a bit of effort on my fleet’s part.” Was he actually implying that his own efforts to liberate Korgwnal were for the sake of a glass artist? “It’s an honor to have you here to talk about your work.”

“Well, if you insist, Syndic.” The Syndic did, and Huus found himself with a rapt audience of one, so much so it was easy not to notice the other two listeners, the Admiral and the female Chiss, who apparently were content to stand for as long as required, listening. At least, he assumed the crossed arms and braced stances were signs of contentment.


End file.
